


Immortal

by Ellstra



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Regret, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellstra/pseuds/Ellstra
Summary: She looks so much like Galen and yet she looks at him with contempt he could never muster. She looks a lot like she did when she was a child and he played with her, his goddaughter. Krennic can see the past in her eyes, and thinks of easier times as his creation takes his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a drabble that got out of hand. I'll write a proper fic with actual plot for these two.

“You know who I am,” the girl says. Her eyes are fierce, her voice firm and stern. She’s limping slightly and Krennic can see she’s exhausted. It’s remarkable she’s still standing, after her climb to the top of the archive. She’s a fighter and there’s resolve and determination radiating off her. Krennic had once loved these qualities in another person. “I’m Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen and Lyra. And you've lost.”

She says it like a spell, as if the words could keep him away or protect her. She says it like she’s trying to convince herself of the truth in it. She says it like she’s played all her aces and this is the only card she’s got left. 

The wind rattles around them, this high up on the sky. The shield above them is vibrating under the attack of the Rebellion fleet but Krennic’s eyes are on Jyn only. Her jaw clenches the same way Galen’s did, as if she has to restrain herself from lashing out and tearing his throat apart with her teeth. 

Krennic recalls her as a little girl. She was a handful then, always running around and getting in trouble, inspecting places she shouldn’t have, climbing up vents as if she was a rat born to live there. Sometimes, she’d disappear for long hours, and Galen would pretend to be cross with her when she came back, and tell her off for her mother’s benefit, but he never meant it. He loved his little girl unconditionally, probably more than he ever loved anyone, and he was nothing if not proud. 

Krennic wasn’t quite as happy with a little girl with zero impulse control running about the compounds he was in charge of, but she was too much like Galen for him to be truly annoyed. She’d run around with a mischievous smile, stepping on his cape and making up implausible excuses as to how she didn’t notice it. She’d draw him in a couple of her childish drawings, alongside herself and her parents, and Krennic didn’t know how to feel about it. 

He couldn’t help but be fond of her for who she was, for the smile she brought to his - and Galen’s - lips. But she was a proof, an undeniable and omnipresent proof that he would only be the person she drew on her little drawings. He would be an uncle to her, and a friend to Galen at best. Nothing more, and nothing less. Sometimes, the idea was almost too much to bear. 

Orson often pondered if this is how madness starts, if this constant turmoil is what will eventually make him press a blaster to his temple. He was caught in the absurdity of his situation, always so close and yet so distant. 

Krennic wonders if she still remembers him, uncle Orson, or if that person was someone else entirely in her memory. He thinks of the days when he’d lead profound conversations with her, as only children and unrelated adults can, about the most important questions of life, such as where the light inside of the fridge goes when you close it. He thinks of the time when she was sick and he came to see her and brought her fruits and toys to make her feel better when her parents were too busy. 

But he thinks about the bad times too, about the times when he’d felt her absence as if she was his daughter too. He recalls the day he found out Galen and his family had disappeared into thin air, the hopeless search during which he tried his best to hide the angry cluster of emotions battling in his chest. He’d never been one to deny his rage, but he was desperate to conceal his fear, his loneliness, his feelings of betrayal. Betrayal, that had been the worst. 

He’d never had many friends. Admirers, people eager to feed on his success and hard work, sure, but friends… Galen was most probably the only friend he’s ever had. 

He says something, threatens Jyn maybe, or tells her she’s a foolish girl. He doesn’t know, doesn’t care. He can barely keep up the pretence that she’s just another useless minion of the Rebel alliance, and he knows it would break him if he allowed himself to really see her. She says something back, gestures, but he doesn’t listen to her. What does it matter? She can’t do anything to him, she’s weaponless, and alone. He doesn’t think he’d be able to shoot her where she stands. 

Krennic was surprised when Galen told him he wanted him to be the girl’s godfather. He’d never considered the possibility, and back then children were a vague, slightly unappealing concept. But Galen chose him; even if not in the way Orson would have wanted, he chose him to be a protector of his little girl who meant so much to him since the day she was born. And Krennic failed to do even that.

Jyn is defiant and stands her ground even with him pointing a gun at her. She has a special fire in her eyes that shines even through the weariness in them and she’s so overwhelmingly similar to Galen in his passionate youthful zeal that Krennic doesn't see her long braid or round face anymore. All he can see is the man he thought he'd lost forever. 

_ “What's troubling you, Galen?” Orson asks and watches his friend over the brim of a glass of some cheap alcohol. He knows he'll regret it in the morning, aware of what a hangover after such drinking feels like. He doesn't care. _

_ Galen fidgets and takes a sip of his own drink. He avoids Orson’s gaze but there's something undeniably gleeful about him, something hopeful he's trying to hide from Orson as if he's ashamed of it, or scared of what his reaction would be.  _

_ “I'm getting married,” Galen admits at last, “I'm going to have a child.” _

_ Orson freezes. Then he gulps down the rest of his whiskey and pours himself another glass. He sighs.  _

_ “Congratulations,” he says half-heartedly, and it sounds hollow and sarcastic even to him. He notices Galen flinched and wants to make it better, somehow, but fails.  _

_ “Orson…” _

_ “No, I mean it,” Orson says, too fast to sound genuine. _

_ “I know you don't like Lyra,” Galen says, “but you don't know her like I do. She's amazing, kind and compassionate. She understands me like no one else.” _

_ “It's not about her,” Orson protests.  _ Does she really? Does she know your deepest fears, does she know where to caress you to make you moan in bliss? Does she know that the only way for you is up, up and up until you reach the stars? 

_ “I'm not leaving,” Galen points out. _

_ “I know,” Orson nods.  _ Not yet. 

_ “She completes me,” Galen goes on to disturb the silence. He watches Orson down yet another glass. He doesn't have the strength to say what he’s thinking.  _

_ “How is she better than I am?” Krennic asks anyway. His words are dispersed and heavy.  _

_ “She’s not better than you, and you’re not better than her. You’re my first friend, my only friend, to be honest. You’re… you’re too complicated, Orson. Lyra is easy to love and she holds me together. She’s what I need to stay sane.” _

_ “She’s holding you back.” _

_ “She is,” Galen agrees, much to Orson’s surprise. Krennic looks up; his cheeks feel unbearably hot and he knows he’ll regret this whole evening. But the last scraps of restraint are gone now, drowned and diffused in the shitty alcohol he’s drunk way too much of.  _

_ “So that’s what you’ve become now? You choose a girl who holds you back, who will never allow you to reach your brilliance, over me?”  _

_ “Orson, please stop,” Galen begs. He’s known Orson wouldn’t take this news well; he’s known Orson doesn’t consider their affair as over as he does, that Krennic still hopes of getting him back somehow. Galen wishes he could keep them both, his love and his friend, but he finds it might not be possible. Orson pretended to be okay with being just his friend as long as he felt like he was the most important person in Galen’s life. Now that this certainty is gone…  _

_ “I want to give you everything, Galen,” Orson slurs and his voice is as desperate as his words. He takes Galen’s hand in his and clutches it as if he can push Lyra’s love out of Erso’s veins if he presses hard enough.  _

_ “I know,” Galen whispers, “and I’m sorry I can’t do the same. But I… I loved you too much, so much it was turning me into something I’m not, or something I never want to be.” _

_ “You loved me too much? How can you love someone too much?” Krennic mutters and he takes Galen’s chin between his fingers, forcing him to look up. “How?” _

_ “I’ve told you already. Please, don’t make me hate you,” Galen pleads. Krennic’s eyes harden and he frowns.  _

_ “You could never hate me,” he spits and stands up, walking away. He staggers slightly and his vision is spinning and swirling with the alcohol. He blinks hard as he fights tears he’s not sure he’s summoned. He wishes Galen would call after him, would run to catch up to him, to beg him to come back. But Galen doesn’t, of course. If there’s one thing he’d never surrender, it’s his pride.  _

Their relationship was never the same after that night, and Orson could do nothing but watch helplessly as Galen distanced himself more and more, as Lyra - consciously or not - dragged him further and further, until they disappeared. 

Galen never came to him in the long years after Orson dragged him back to the Empire. He pretended to be blind and deaf and refused all Orson’s invitations and pleas. In the long and lonely years, Galen never yielded, never as much as looked at Krennic with anything but contempt in his eyes. Krennic thought being separated was the worst thing he could experience, but he soon found that seeing the person he wanted hate him was much worse. He wished he’d let Galen rot on that dreadful rock. At least that way he could pretend his lover was lost, that they were separated by some malevolent twist of fate rather than his own pride. 

Out of a sudden, something hits him, or he hits something, he’s not sure. Pain flares through his whole being and his eyes widen. He catches one last glance of Jyn and he wants to tell her he’s sorry too, that he wishes he’d had more time with Galen too and that he wants her to know-

When he wakes up again, he has barely enough energy to raise his head and see the Death Star on the sky, gigantic and ominous. The Death Star, his masterpiece, his life, his child. He's dedicated decades to the construction of it, he kept going even when everyone left him, and here she is, ready to show her strength again for him. Except this time, he is on the wrong side of the canons. 

Are children supposed to be like this? Drain you of all energy, wake you up at night and then kill you when they don't need you anymore? Krennic thinks of Galen’s love for his daughter; he watches the ignition of his own baby’s reactor and he shakes his head a little. What are children if not to love? 

Just before the Death Star shoots, he imagines Tarkin’s smug face and frowns. His girl should not go under that prick’s command, or Vader’s. She's his and always will be. She'll show them their place. His and Galen’s girl. The proof that whoever tried to get between them, it was their joined genius that made her possible. She'll make them proud; she'll make them immortal.

**Author's Note:**

> _Dedicated to the memory of Carrie Fisher. May the Force be with you, Princess._


End file.
